


Like Lightning

by kiyala



Series: soulbonding [5]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Crying, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-09
Updated: 2014-01-09
Packaged: 2018-01-08 02:59:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1127562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiyala/pseuds/kiyala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's just a moment—his heart caught in his throat—and nothing more, but it still changes everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Lightning

Courfeyrac is on the phone with Combeferre when it happens. He's walking home from work and he's just leaving the Metro station when he sees her. She's beautiful, tall and blonde with her hair down to her waist and hazel eyes behind thick-framed glasses. He stops in his tracks, his heart caught in his throat as his stomach sinks with dread.

 _No_ , he begs—and he doesn't even know who he is begging, if it's her, himself, the universe. _Please, no_.

He looks at her again, and feels nothing. No fireworks, no inextricable bond, nothing but an appreciation for her beauty and even that fades as quickly as it had hit him, replaced by a rush of relief.

His phone starts ringing in his hand. It's Combeferre, and Courfeyrac realises he must have hung up by accident. He answers, his voice small and shaky.

"Courfeyrac?" Combeferre is immediately concerned. "Is everything okay?"

"Not really," Courfeyrac replies, because he knows better than to lie to Combeferre. "I can't talk to you about it right now, but I _will_ tell you when I get home, okay?"

"Okay," Combeferre says uncertainly. "See you when you get home."

"I love you, Combeferre." They don't make a habit of tacking it onto the end of every phone conversation, but Courfeyrac feels the need to say it this time.

"I love you too." If anything, Combeferre sounds even more worried now.

Courfeyrac knows that he should get home as soon as possible, but he doesn't feel steady on his feet at all. He needs to sit down, so he goes to the nearest café and buys himself a hot chocolate. His hands shake as he carries it to an empty table and sits down heavily. He doesn't even realise that he's crying until the woman at the table beside his offers him a tissue.

"Thank you. Sorry." Courfeyrac tries to smile, but even more tears stream down his cheeks.

He quickly finishes his hot chocolate, reassuring the concerned woman that he'll be fine, really, it's nothing to worry about, before he gets up and leaves.

When he gets home, he catches Combeferre pacing nervously. Combeferre stands there in the hall just by the door, and watches Courfeyrac warily.

"You were crying." Combeferre's voice is shaky and he looks like he wants to want towards Courfeyrac, but he stays right where he is. "…Courfeyrac?"

Crossing the distance between them, Courfeyrac wraps his arms around Combeferre tightly and holds on. Combeferre's hands settle on Courfeyrac's shoulders and he doesn't say anything, but he doesn't need to. Courfeyrac knows him well enough to know how worried he is.

"It's nothing bad," Courfeyrac whispers, unsure what Combeferre's imagination has supplied him with, but knowing that it can't be good.

"This doesn't look like _nothing_ to me," Combeferre says softly. "I have a feeling that we both need to sit down."

Courfeyrac lets Combeferre lead them both to the couch, their hands clasped in each other tightly. Combeferre is watching him carefully and Courfeyrac takes a deep breath. He forces himself to look up, holding Combeferre's gaze as he speaks.

"When I was on my way home, I was walking out of the station and I saw this woman…"

" _Oh_." Combeferre sounds like he's been wounded. "Oh, Courfeyrac, did you—"

"No," Courfeyrac interrupts quickly. "No, that's the thing. She was pretty, but that was it. No bond. But for a second, I thought I _did_ and it terrified me."

Combeferre pulls Courfeyrac closer, into his lap, and they cling to each other. Combeferre presses his face against Courfeyrac's shoulder, his eyes squeezed shut. "I love you."

"I love you too," Courfeyrac replies, running a hand through Combeferre's hair. "I'm so sorry—"

"What for?" Combeferre asks. "If it had happened to me, I don't think I would have reacted any differently."

"I thought we were past this," Courfeyrac mutters, irritated at himself. "I thought that we were past the fear that one day…"

He doesn't finish the sentence because he can't bear to, because he doesn't even like thinking about it, because Combeferre knows what he means anyway. He supposes that it shouldn't come as a surprise. Whether they like it or not, it's something that is going to be lingering at the back of their minds for their entire lives. There is nothing they can do to change it.

They're meant to be getting married in two weeks. This shouldn't be tripping them up now, the way it did when Courfeyrac just turned twenty-three to discover that despite their certainty, they aren't soul mates. It angers Courfeyrac to think about it now, because there is _no way_ that there is anybody out there in the world who is more perfect for him than Combeferre is.

"If you're worried…" Combeferre begins, because of course he knows exactly what Courfeyrac is thinking about. "I don't mind waiting, Courfeyrac. We don't have to get married _now_."

"We're getting married," Courfeyrac replies firmly. "I'm not going to let some stupid paranoia get in our way. We might not be bonded but we love each other and that's all that matters okay? Nothing is going to stop us."

"Okay." Combeferre nods, kissing Courfeyrac hard. "Okay. If you're sure."

"I am," Courfeyrac replies, wrapping his arms around Combeferre. "I love you."

They pull each other to bed and their sex is rough and desperate as they pant into each other's mouths, gripping each other's hands like they're afraid to let go. They eat dinner in bed, so they don't have to get dressed or leave each other's arms. It's just a band-aid fix and they both know it, but Courfeyrac doesn't think that he's capable of anything better than that right now anyway.

He clings to Combeferre as he sleeps and no matter how much he tells himself that everything is going to be fine, he wakes the next morning sick with a dread he hasn't felt since the day after Combeferre turned twenty-three. He tries as hard as he can to keep Combeferre from noticing that anything is wrong, but that's near impossible considering how well they know each other.

Combeferre isn't exactly doing particularly well himself and Courfeyrac makes them both breakfast and pulls Combeferre against him, trying to kiss all of the doubt away, ignoring everything else lurking below the surface for now. Courfeyrac knows that it's not going to fix anything, certainly not so easily, but it doesn't stop him from wanting to try all the same.

Courfeyrac hopes that at least his day at work will get his mind off things. While it does, it's also incredibly stressful. The law firm he works for gets a new big case and he's busy for the entire day, while also feeling that he isn't actually getting anywhere.

He rings Combeferre around the time that he usually leaves work. He's tired, stressed, and every single time he takes a moment away from work, he starts worrying about everything _else_ instead.

"Hi, Courfeyrac." Combeferre sounds tired himself, and no less stressed. "How has your day been?"

"I've had better," Courfeyrac replies with a heavy sigh. "We're swamped with work here, and I don't know when I'm going to be home."

Combeferre doesn't reply immediately and Courfeyrac can hear him taking a deep breath. "…Is this because of yesterday? Are you—"

"Combeferre," Courfeyrac interrupts. "This has nothing to do with yesterday. I promise. I just have a lot of work to do. I'll be home as soon as I can, but I think it's going to take me a while."

"So I'm guessing I shouldn't wait up for you?" Combeferre asks, and Courfeyrac recognises that tone, knows it to mean that Combeferre is trying his very hardest to smile though he doesn't want to. He probably isn't succeeding. Then again, Courfeyrac isn't either.

"You have a twelve-hour shift at the hospital tomorrow, don't you?" Courfeyrac asks. "I don't want you to be tired."

"I'll call you before I go to bed," Combeferre murmurs. "Good luck with your work."

"I love you."

"I love you too."

Hanging up, Courfeyrac throws himself back into his work. He's glad that it's not just him staying back in the office, so at least it isn't lonely. Nobody wants to distract each other, but they all take periodic breaks so that they don't end up burned out. Courfeyrac eats his dinner at his desk as he works, trying to get through his work as quickly as possible so that he can go home soon, to Combeferre.

He's just packing his things to go when his phone rings. It's Combeferre, sounding sleepy as he says, "I'm going to bed now."

For a moment, Courfeyrac considers saying that he'll be home soon, but he decides against it. He doesn't want to make Combeferre feel as if he needs to wait up.

"Good night," he says instead. "I'll see you when I get home."

Courfeyrac's boss, who has also stated back to work, tells him to come in late the next morning. Courfeyrac simply nods, too tired to argue, or worry about everything else that he'll need to get through when he comes into work again.

By the time he finally gets home, Combeferre is deep asleep. He barely even stirs as Courfeyrac gets into bed beside him, continuing to snore softly. Courfeyrac lies awake despite how tired he is, listening to Combeferre snore, trying to push all the paranoid thoughts from his mind. It takes an incredibly long time.

The next day, Combeferre has already left for work by the time Courfeyrac wakes up. He takes his time getting ready and gets into work sometime around eleven o'clock, feeling well-rested for all of the two minutes it takes for him to enter the building and get to his desk, before he gets right back to work. He ends up staying late as work again but it's not as bad as the day before. He gets home just as Combeferre is getting ready for bed, and they manage a bit of small-talk before crawling into bed, falling asleep with their arms around each other.

The day after that, Courfeyrac doesn't have to stay back at work, but Combeferre is working a night shift so they don't see each other anyway. As Courfeyrac is making dinner for himself, he guiltily realises that he _likes_ the fact that he hasn't spent a great deal of time with Combeferre since the day of the soulbonding scare, as he's taken to calling it in his head. He doesn't spend as much time being afraid when he isn't with Combeferre and maybe he's just been looking for an excuse all along, but from that point onward, Courfeyrac begins making a more concentrated effort to avoid Combeferre, at least until he stops feeling so damn _afraid_

It lasts for an entire week. Courfeyrac stays back at work even if he doesn't need to, or he'll go out to dinner and drinks with one of their friends. First it's Marius, who tells Courfeyrac all about how wonderfully things are going with Cosette and as much as Courfeyrac is genuinely happy for them both, it only makes him worry about Combeferre even more. The next time, he goes out with Jehan and they don't talk about their relationships at all. Courfeyrac appreciates that a lot more.

Except then of the weekend, he's all out of excuses when Combeferre comes home from an eight hour shift on Saturday night. There's nowhere to go, no more excuses, and Combeferre stands in the doorway for a moment before reconsidering, stepping in the room and standing against the wall instead, giving Courfeyrac a way to get out if he wants it.

"I think we need to talk."

Courfeyrac sighs quietly, and stays right where he is. He doesn't say anything because he knows that Combeferre has probably planned something out. Combeferre takes a deep breath and walks over to the couch, sitting down.

"Okay, to begin with, I figured that you were actually telling the truth because you sounded so damn stressed when you were on the phone. But it's nearly been a week now and we haven't had an actual conversation in that entire time."

"I know," Courfeyrac sighs. "I'm sorry. I was—I guess I was hoping that we'd get past this if we took enough time."

"That's not just up to you, damn it, Courfeyrac. You can't just _avoid me_ and hope it fixes everything because in case you haven't realised yet, it's making things _worse_."

"What do you want me to do?" Courfeyrac asks. "I can't fix this, Combeferre, it's going to be hanging over our heads forever and there is nothing that's going to change that."

"So, what, you're just going to use every excuse you can think of to stay away from home, and from me?" Combeferre pinches the bridge of his nose, under his glasses. "Courfeyrac, do you remember the last time this happened?"

"I…" Courfeyrac _does_ remember. He' tried breaking up with Combeferre once. It hadn't last for long and it had been quite a while ago, but the guilt returns with full force.

"I asked you to never do that to me again," Combeferre says, quiet and angry. "I thought we were past _that_ , if nothing else. I thought we'd at least grown up enough to communicate with each other."

"I'm sorry, okay? I wasn't thinking about—anything. I was freaking out. I know that I shouldn't have been avoiding you. Especially not now."

"A week off when we were supposed to get married?" Combeferre laughs hollowly. "Yeah."

Courfeyrac's heart sinks. " _Supposed to_."

"Courfeyrac," Combeferre says gently, "I can't marry you like this. Not when we need to work through so many issues?"

"So, what, this is you calling the wedding off?" Courfeyrac asks, and he hates the fact that his voice trembles a little as he speaks.

"This is me decided that you spending a week avoiding me is a pretty big sign that we shouldn't be getting married right now."

"So this is my fault."

"No, Courfeyrac—" Combeferre begins, but Courfeyrac can't do this. He can't listen to Combeferre being calm and reasonable while the best thing in their life falls apart. He can't.

So he leaves, blinking the tears from his eyes. Combeferre makes an aborted move to stop him, but stays where he is. Courfeyrac doesn't look back at him as he walks out of their apartment, out of the building entirely, and onto the street.

He has no idea where to go, so he ends up going to Jehan. Bahorel answers the door, frowning when he sees Courfeyrac crying.

"Jehan," he calls, opening the door wider for Courfeyrac.

"What's the matter—oh, _Courfeyrac_ , what happened? Sit down, I'll make some tea. Bahorel, I think we still have leftover cake, can you check for me?"

"People usually go for ice cream when they've broken up, don't they?" Courfeyrac asks in a small voice, and both Jehan and Bahorel immediately stop in their tracks.

" _No_ ," Jehan says, and sits down on the couch beside Courfeyrac, pulling him into a tight hug.

"I'll get something to drink," Bahorel decides, walking to the kitchen.

"What happened?" Jehan asks, and Courfeyrac wipes his eyes, determined to stop crying.

"It's my own stupid fault. I… kind of had a bit of a scare, a week ago, when I thought I found my soul mate. It was a false alarm, but then I freaked out and started avoiding Combeferre and now he's decided that he doesn't want to marry me after all."

"Oh no." Jehan holds Courfeyrac even tighter. "I'm so sorry, Courfeyrac."

"Did Combeferre actually say that he wanted to break up, though?" Bahorel asks, returning to the couch with three bottles of beer. He holds one out for Courfeyrac. "Hear me out. I mean, it's shitty that you guys are calling the wedding off. I get that. But right now, after you've been freaking out over the possibility of being bonded to someone else? Not exactly the best time to be getting married, if you ask me. But, you know, that doesn't have to mean you break up. Maybe you just need to leave it for a while longer. Wait until you've calmed down a bit."

"Maybe," Courfeyrac agrees quietly. The amount of hope that floods through him makes his chest feel like bursting. He runs a hand through his hair. "How do you two do it? Don't you ever worry that you'll bond with someone else?"

"Never," Jehan replies simply. "I mean… statistically speaking, I'm more likely to be struck by lightning and die than I am to find my soul mate. And when you consider that two coupes in our friends circle are already bonded? I can't help but feel like that lowers our chances even more."

"I guess it's kind of different for you two," Bahorel speaks up. "I mean, you were _expecting_ to be bonded and then you weren't. That would have really sucked. That's what Grantaire told me, anyway."

Just then, Courfeyrac's phone starts ringing. He pulls it out of his pocket and looks at the screen. "Speak of the devil."

"Courfeyrac." Grantaire sounds incredibly worried, and it makes Courfeyrac frown. "Are you around Combeferre at the moment, by any chance?"

"No. What's wrong?"

"That's kind of what I wanted to ask you," Grantaire says. "Because he's been on the phone with Enjolras for the past few minutes and I think he's yelling, because Enjolras looks really upset and I have _no idea_ what's going on."

"Fuck." Courfeyrac squeezes his eyes shut, feeling incredibly guilty. This is all his fault. "I'm sorry. It's… me, I'm an idiot. I'm going to fix this, I swear."

"Is everything okay?" Grantaire asks.

"No," Courfeyrac replies honestly. "Everything is far from okay. I have to go, okay? I'll talk to you later. Apologise to Enjolras for me."

"What's the matter?" Jehan asks with a frown, once Courfeyrac hangs up.

"Combeferre's—not dealing very well either. I need to go back and talk to him."

"Yes you do," Bahorel agrees with a nod. "You love each other, okay, and you don't just give up on shit like that so easily."

Courfeyrac nods. "Right. Thanks, both of you. I'm sorry for just barging in like this, but I appreciate everything."

He walks home as quickly as he can. When he lets himself into their apartment, Combeferre isn't on the phone any more. He's sitting on the couch with his head in his hands and when he looks up, Courfeyrac notices that his eyes are wet too.

"You came back." Combeferre's voice is soft, and a little rough. He doesn't take his eyes off Courfeyrac. "I… I wasn't so sure you'd come back, this time."

"Of course I came back," Courfeyrac says, crossing the room and kneeling in front of Combeferre. "I'm sorry. I need to stop running. It's really not helping."

Combeferre laughs a little shakily. "Yeah."

"I'm sorry," Courfeyrac says again. "You're right. We really shouldn't be getting married right now. I just… please, Combeferre. Don't leave me."

Combeferre stares at him in surprise before pulling him close and hugging him tightly. "Courfeyrac, I'm not going anywhere. I promise. I love you, and we don't have to get married right now to prove that. It can wait. You know what? It doesn't even have to happen at all. Yes I'm hurt and a little angry right now, and I may or may not owe Enjolras a very big apology for taking it all out on him after you left. But that doesn't make me love you any less, okay? Nothing would make me love you less."

"I love you too," Courfeyrac replies, resting his head on Combeferre's shoulder. "I'm going to stop running from things like this, okay? We're actually going to work things out."

"That sounds good," Combeferre says with a small smile.

"I'm glad our wedding was just meant to be a small thing," Courfeyrac grins. "Fewer things to cancel."

"Your parents are going to be upset," Combeferre murmurs.

"Mostly because they have to wait even longer to get you as a son-in-law." Courfeyrac takes Combeferre's hand. "But they will."

"Yes, they will." Combeferre kisses Courfeyrac gently. "And my mother will have to wait a while longer before she gets _you_ as a son-in-law. I'm sure she'll agree that it's worth the wait, no matter how long it may take."

Courfeyrac smiles at that. They might not be completely okay just yet, but he knows that they'll get there.

Actually cancelling the wedding, while not as bad as it would have been for a bigger thing, is still somewhat of a nightmare. Combeferre and Courfeyrac need to let everyone know that it's off and not to worry, that they aren't breaking up. They eventually decide on telling people that it's been postponed, because that's a lot easier to explain. They hadn't booked a hall, planning to hold their reception at a park, so there aren't many cancellation fees to pay, except for the caterers. It's nowhere near as bad as having to reassure their friends and family that everything's fine.

The one thing that they don't cancel is their honeymoon. Their leave has already been approved and they've made all of their bookings They both need a holiday anyway and Combeferre suggests that maybe they can use their time away together to sort things out. If nothing else, it's definitely worth a shot.

They'd made plans to go to Rome, because they've both always wanted to take a holiday there. Combeferre spends the entire trip there looking through the different trusts the can go on, excitedly comparing them to Courfeyrac, asking which he thinks would be better. Courfeyrac smiles at him adoringly, taking Combeferre's hand into his own and listening to him as he goes over their options once again.

Their hotel room is beautiful, with a view that overlooks the streets, a king sized bed, a comfortably sized sitting areas and a small kitchenette. Courfeyrac sighs quietly, standing at their large window and looking outside. This would have been great as an actual honeymoon, and it's his fault that there not married yet.

"You need to stop blaming yourself," Combeferre says softly.

"And you need to stop reading my mind," Courfeyrac replies, not looking back. He darts when Combeferre's arms wrap around him from behind, but smiles when Combeferre kisses the back of his neck.

"We're going to enjoy ourselves anyway."

"I know that, you big nerd. We're going to go on every single tour we can possibly fit into our days, aren't we?" Courfeyrac turns around this time, grinning up at Combeferre.

"Oh, please. Stop pretending that you aren't going to love every moment of it." Combeferre leans in, kissing Courfeyrac hard. "We have an hour before we have to leave for the first tour I've booked us I for. How do you think we can pass an entire hour, Courfeyrac?"

"It should be _illegal_ for you to tease," Courfeyrac mutters, pushing Combeferre towards the large bed. "You're too good at it."

"You love it," Combeferre chuckles, as Courfeyrac makes him sit on the edge of the bed and then climbs onto his lap.

"I love _you_ ," Courfeyrac says quietly, against Combeferre's lips. "And I am sorry, because this whole thing _is_ my fault. If I hadn't—"

"Courfeyrac," Combeferre interrupts, a little impatiently. "I'm trying to distract you with sex, here. Help me out."

Courfeyrac laughs, wrapping his arms around Combeferre a little tighter. "Well, then. Consider me distracted."

"Just you wait," Combeferre growls, his smirk filled with filthy promises as he rolls over, pinning Courfeyrac beneath him.

He fucks Courfeyrac to the point of incoherency and doesn't hold back, doesn't waste time when he knows exactly where Courfeyrac loves being bitten, knows how to line himself up so he's hitting Courfeyrac's prostate with every thrust and making him scream until he's hoarse.

They lie in each other's arms afterwards, panting for breath, Combeferre watching with satisfaction as Courfeyrac lies there, his thoughts not quite coherent yet, his eyes most probably glazed.

"Fuck," is the first thing Courfeyrac manages to say, blinking as he turns to Combeferre. "We're… doing that again after we get back from the tour, right?"

Combeferre huffs in amusement, leaning over to press a trail of kisses all along Courfeyrac's jaw. "That's the basic plan, yes."

"Good," Courfeyrac murmurs with a smile, throwing an arm around Combeferre's waist, happy to just lie there for a moment.

"We'll need to get ready soon," Combeferre says, checking the time.

"Mm, should've thought about that _before_ you fucked me senseless. You'll have to carry me."

"Don't think I won't," Combeferre replies, getting to his feet and hefting Courfeyrac over his shoulder.

"That's unfair," Courfeyrac protests. "And ridiculously hot."

Combeferre puts him down and grabs their towels, and Courfeyrac doesn't complain at all because once the water's heated up, he's being crowded into the shower and kissed under the spray of warm water. Combeferre makes sure they're out of the shower, dressed, and ready to go just in time. There's a very good reason they're engaged. Several of them.

The first tour that Combeferre has booked for them takes them to the Roman Forum, the Arch of Constantine, Palatine Hill, and the Colosseum, one after another. As much as Courfeyrac had been amused by Combeferre's excitement the entire way here, he can't deny the fact that he is equally captivated now. The take countless photos and make plans to return later to spend more time at each place, to explore everything at their own leisure. Courfeyrac isn't even sure when they start holding hands and pulling each other along to point things out, but they don't let go for the rest of the day.

They get asked no less than seven times throughout the day if they are a bonded couple. Each time, it's said as if to confirm what the people asking are already certain of. Each time, the people asking are surprised when Courfeyrac and Combeferre reply that no, they're not.

The strange thing, Courfeyrac finds, is that he doesn't feel upset about it at all. If anything, he takes it as an indication that they make a good couple as it is, without needing to be bonded, and that thought grows at the back of his mind until they get back to their hotel room that evening to rest for a while before going out to dinner.

He turns to Combeferre, who is sitting on the couch and going through the photos on his camera, and says, "You know what? I don't care that we're not bonded."

Combeferre looks up, putting his camera down on the table in front of him. "Courfeyrac?"

"I'm an idiot. I've been missing the whole point, all this time. _I don't need to be bonded to you_. I love you, and that's enough. So what if we were disappointed because we thought we'd be bonded when we were younger? The odds are literally one in several billion. And those are the odds that we're going to end up bonding to anyone else. Actually, no, the odds are even lower than that. My point is, I love you and that's not going to change. I think I'm done with letting my paranoia get in the way of the best thing in my life."

Combeferre smiles at that and gets to his feet, crossing the small room and pulling Courfeyrac into his arms.

"…You've been waiting for me to reach this conclusion all along, haven't you?" Courfeyrac asks against Combeferre's lips.

With a soft chuckle, Combeferre kisses him. "You're giving me way too much credit and while I am tempted to take it… I've been just as afraid as you, Courfeyrac. It's taken me just as long to get over it. Not until today, when I realised that if people keep assuming that we were made for each other, then we must have been. Bond or no bond. I want to spend my entire life with you, Courfeyrac. I always have."

"Me too," Courfeyrac replies, kissing Combeferre hard before pulling away with a small smirk. "What if we just get married while we're here?"

Combeferre raises an eyebrow. "I think our friends might kill us. Our parents—"

"I don't care," Courfeyrac says. "I want to be your husband. Right now."

"Right now?" Combeferre asks and _oh_ , he didn't even look this happy during the tour. "You mean that, Courfeyrac? Because so help me, I will go and hunt down the nearest celebrant and get them to marry us _right now_."

"Do it," Courfeyrac replies, and it's impossible to keep the smile off his face. "I'm sure the lovely people at the reception desk can point us in the right direction."

As uncommon as soul bonds may be, they mean that there is always at least one marriage celebrant available at any given time. Most short-notice marriages happen between newly-bonded couples and when Courfeyrac and Combeferre finally manage to find the celebrant, she looks between them with a knowing smile.

"Well, I'm not going to ask if you've settled your bond yet."

"We're not bonded," Combeferre begins.

"But we don't care," Courfeyrac adds. He lifts his hand, showings her his engagement ring. "We were going to get married before we came here, and then we were going to get married after we went home, but…"

"It needs to be now," she finishes, nodding understandingly.

It's a quick process, and they sign their names on the certificate before pulling each other into a kiss that lasts a little longer than usual to make up for their lack of wedding rings. They thank the celebrant and she kisses both their cheeks before sending them on their way, smiling warmly.

"Well, husband," Courfeyrac says, with a huge smile that he still hasn't managed to get rid of. "Dinner?"

"Hmm, I'm not sure," Combeferre says, wrapping an arm around Courfeyrac's shoulders. "I do recall promising my fiancé that I was going to fuck him until he forgot how to string sentences together."

"I've changed my mind, I'm not hungry." Courfeyrac wraps his arm around Combeferre's waist as they start walking back towards the hotel. "I knew there was a good reason I married you."

"One?" Combeferre asks.

"Okay. Several. Countless reasons, actually. Most of all because I love you."

Combeferre's smile grows impossibly warmer and he stops walking for a moment so he can kiss Courfeyrac right there on the street. "I love you too. Now, I say we go and enjoy the rest of our honeymoon. What do you think?"

Courfeyrac takes Combeferre's hand into his own and squeezes tightly. "Lead the way."


End file.
